Trau·ma
by FaceofLanterns
Summary: (\ˈtrau -mə, ˈtrȯ-\noun) :a disordered psychic or behavioral state resulting from severe mental or emotional stress or physical injury. Dib, along with others, are merely string puppets in the hands of their puppeteer, Zim. They must rely on him to be their escape and safety. But as the puppet's minds unravel, can they still make it out alive without some sort of permanent trauma?
1. Chapter 1

A quiet, low moan escaped from the concrete cell. No one answers the call, and the air stills in the building. The darkness hugs every form in the room in a tight embrace and spills darker into the corners and cracks. It is damp, musty, and dirty here, like a prison that had been abandoned for years. The atmosphere is thick and heavy, as if the building itself were slouching in depression. There were no windows, and only one door at the end of the hallway. Another moan can be heard from the same cell, but is cut off by a gasped choking noise of surprise and two, pale, 17 year old hands grasp the rusty bars at the front of the cell.

"H-hello?" he calls out weakly and waits patiently for a reply. The other two cells across the wide hallway remain silent, the same goes for the one beside his own. The young adult's eyes dart around, wide with fear. The silence, which he usually enjoyed, now made him and uneasy and afraid. "Hello? Hey! Anybody!?" he shrieks as he tries to rattle the bars containing him, splitting the silence for only a moment before it settles again.

He squints desperately, straining his retinas to the point of pain, trying to see more than just grey hues and outlines of shapes. However, his own eyes mocked him, and refused to focus on anything he bid them to. He slid down the bars and sat on his knees. His breaths quickened, as well as his heart rate, as he wondered where he was and how he got here.

There was a subtle whimper that emerged from the cell across the hall, small and uncertain. This made the pale figure tense, but he quickly recovers and whispers a question.

"Is someone there?"

There was another moment of silence from inside the almost pitch black cell, and then, another small whimper. "Who's there?" it cried out quietly. The pitiful voice quivered with fear, but something about the accent sounds familiar to the pale human.

"I-I'm here!" he jumped up, gripping the bars again tightly. The shout echoed, and hearing his own voice annoyed him. It seemed inappropriate now that he knew someone else was here. "Who are you? What's your name?" he whispered quickly, relieved that there was someone to accompany him in the confusion. "Come to the front…I can't see you." the pale figure said, wanting to see another soul, hoping his mind wasn't tricking him.

From the darkness came small, three-fingered, black glove hands that hesitantly gripped the thick rusted bars of the cell. Whatever light that was in the building reflected off two magenta orbs that blinked curiously across the hall. Even though they were all the young adult could see, those eyes held his own in a wide stare - the color contrasted greatly with the black and came as a relieving sight from all the darkness.

It took a moment for the pale figure to register who he was seeing, but when he did, it brought fear, confusion, and relief all at once.

"Zim?" he breathed out shakily. "Is that you? What's going on?"

"I am not…" the other started, but was cut off by a loud shriek that rang in their ears, making them jump.

"Where am I? What is this!?" came angry roars and bangs from the cell next to the human.

"L-L-Lard Nar?" called the voice across the hall in surprise.

"Skoodge!?" he yelled back. "What the hell is going on!?"

"Skoodge?" The human looked across the hall again at the dark cell containing Skoodge. "You're…not Zim." he spoke so softly only he could hear, sighing with both relief and disappointment.

"Uh guys?" Came a shrill, nervous squeak from the cage that they had assumed empty. "Where are we?"

"Keef!? Is that you?"

"D-Dib!" Keef cried.

"Just what the hell is going on!?" The one called Lard Nar roared again. "Who are you people!? Where are we!?" Violent cracks of hooves against concrete pounded through the small building, the noises grew louder and louder still, bouncing off the walls and connecting with each other, making adrenaline seep through all four of their bodies.


	2. Chapter 2

The magenta color of Skoodge's eyes fade into the black of the cell, his hands retreat from view as well, and cowering in the dark corner of his confinement he begins to weep. The angry hoof beats that bounced around on the walls relentlessly were not helping. In fact, they were making matters worse.

"Hey!" The pale figure shouts into the hall, trying to direct his protest to the cell next to him. "What was it…Lard? Shut your hole! You're not helping, we have to stay calm and think of a way to get out of here!"

Trying to stay calm and establishing a connection as allies, Dib knew, was to be the first step they need to accomplish if they were ever going to make progress getting out. Unfortunately, the captive beside him would not comply so easily.

"It's Lard Nar!" he shouts into the gloom. "Captain Lard Nar! And I'll have you know when I find whoever did this there'll be bloody hell to pay!" He screams this as if the one who did this to him could hear. There is no response from the outside, so he continues to shout and pound in the darkness, possibly as his way of showing fear, maybe to release stress, no one knew but him. Quiet sobbing continuously coats the air, filling the gaps between the angry shouts. The sobs themselves could be enough to bring someone to tears. Their sound is a pained, sorrowful, fearful sound of something like a child. Keef remains absolutely silent through the noise. Although it is dark, his pink flesh gave off somewhat of a glow, and he could be seen behind the bars. He remains crouched and perfectly still.

The building was alive with horrid sound now, and Dib found he much rather have it quiet so he could be aware of sounds other than their own. The pale young man fingers the bars of his cell, desperately trying to find the door. Though it would most likely be locked, he figures he could pick it somehow, or perhaps break it. Suddenly a hollow metallic clang reaches his ears. It resonates quietly and slows to a stop. He strains to hear the sound again, unsure if it really was something other than themselves.

The second time it came louder with another noise attached. The building's noises are severed short, all hearing the warning from the door, and quickly cower to the corners of the cells.

A click.

A creak.

A slam.

Footsteps.

All these noises corresponded in order in such an agonizing pace that it made the prisoner's hearts race painfully within their chests. As if it were some kind of horror movie, the slow, dull thuds of the steps grow louder with each passing second. They come to a stop, and then the figure unseen still by the inmates snaps his fingers once.

Lights come to life instantly, so blindingly bright it bathed everything in a white glow before dimming to a grey. The pale figure, as well as the others, cringe at the light so abruptly exposed to their large pupils. He pushes himself to a deep corner in his cell and gently opens his eyes to introduce the light properly to his retinas. The building was just as it had appeared to be in the dark - cold, damp, concrete.

The human takes a risk and begins to crawl across the floor on his hands and knees, trying to get far enough to see who it was that brought the light. He tries to make as little noise as possible, although to him his breaths sounds as loud as car horns.

A vivid green figure materializes. He wears a dark shade of pink, with lighter shades accenting the uniform subtly. He is thin, almost unhealthily it would seem, and he is short. He stands with determination and authority, his arms folded behind his back and his chin held high, looking down the bridge of his nonexistent nose menacingly. His eyes are large and a beautiful pink, but something is dull inside them.

"Zim!" The figure jumps to his feet with joy, almost falling in the process. The other inmates hear the name and all at once come rushing to the bars to see their savior, shouting his name in praise and glee.

"Zim, thank god! Get us out of here!" Dib breathes out with a smile cutting across his face.

"Yes, Zim! Hurry up!" Lard Nar half snarls, but cannot help the joy seep into his words.

Zim stands there like a statue. He does not move to unlock the cells. He does not greet them back. He shows no emotion. Instead, he pulls out from behind his back four pods. They are small, about the size of a teacup, ball shaped pods. They are red, but still see-through, and there is something inside that is a pudding-like substance. Seeing this strange behavior, and noticing that Zim would not speak, everyone falls in a strained hush and stares at Zim. He gently places a pod on the ground and kicks it into each of the cells.

"Zim?" Skoodge stutters in a confused, upset tone.

"They eat now." Zim replies in a commanding voice. He folds his gloved hands behind his back and makes his way to the exit. "Wait! Zim! Get us out of here!" Dib shrieks to the Irken. "Where are you going? Come back!"

Zim continues his slow progression to the door and ignores the pleas completely. In desperation, the young man picks up his pod and hurls it at his so-thought-savior. The pod smacks against the wall beside the door and falls softly to the concrete floor. The jade colored Irken picks the pod up calmly and stares at it as if wondering how it had gotten there. He turned on his heel and brought it back to it's owner, drops it, and kicks it in the cell again.

"It eats now." He pronounced each syllable slowly as if talking to an ignorant child.

"Who eats now? What the hell are you talking about!? Let us out!" Dib shouts in an enraged tone.

"It must eat if it wants to live." Zim says simply.

Blood boiling, Dib stares in disbelief at his acquaintance. "I'm not an 'it', I'm a he! I'm a person! What the hell is wrong with you!? It's me!"

This proclamation seemed to confuse Zim. He blinks, like he is trying to erase a thought, and with much effort he looks at the cell's tenant dead in the eye.

"It eats now."

With those last words the painfully thin Irken snaps his fingers and the dreaded darkness returns. Footsteps could be heard lighter and lighter, noticeably faster.

A click.

A creak.

A slam.

All these noises corresponded in order so fast that for a moment the atmosphere was in a silent shock. The building seemed to quiver, sad that it's master had left, taking the light with it, but settled just the same, waiting to eavesdrop on a conversation or feel the movement of it's captives.

"W-w-what…" muttered a trembling Skoodge who slid down to his knees after several minutes of dumbfounded silence. He stared into nothing, replaying what had happened over and over in his mind.

"Why'd Zim leave?" The pink tinted human asked no one in particular. He sounded more confused than anything at the moment. He looked to Dib as best he could through the darkness for help, but the pale human stared back uncertain and without an answer.


	3. Chapter 3

"That damned Irken is going to get his ass kicked around the galaxy when I get out of here! That bloody idiot!" Lard Nar screeches, stomping in frustration. He rants on with vulgar language and goes into great detail about mutilating his captor. He pounds his fists on the walls and shakes the bars.

Tears continued to roll down Skoodge's cheeks, his sobs were now very small and quiet. The loud banging no longer scared him as much, but he still wanted quiet to figure out Zim's actions.

After kicking the cell several times and cursing everything under the stars, the Voration quiets down.

"What's in this?" The pale form asks the other prisoners while he fingers the ball in his palm, finally getting the chance to speak. Squinting closely at the ball, he tries to figure out how to open it.

"It's a protein supplement...It's food." The one beside him answers. He, too, squinted in the darkness to see the ball.

The pale human scoffs in disgust and throws the ball angrily to the floor. It bounced, then rolled, and came to a stop. "I'm not hungry." he growls bitterly into the thick, heavy air, which swallows his words and let's the others hear them as murmurs. Dib was upset, to say the least. He and Zim had been on good terms recently, they weren't fighting every chance they got. But now this happens. It confused him, which in turn made him angry - Dib was one that hated to be confused.

"It's…food…this…cell…supplement…race…maze…year…" Skoodge whispered in emotionally choked gasps. He searches desperately for answers within his mind and tries to make sense of this scary situation.

"What are you saying? Skoodge?" Keef asks his neighbor-in-concrete with a caring and gentle voice. One that Dib had never heard the usually hyper, loud, and outgoing ginger use before.

"Race…must…year-YEAR!" Skoodge shouts triumphantly and springs to his feet. He rushes to the rusted bars and grips them tightly as he looks into the darkness to the cage diagonal from his, horror and dread plastered on his jade-colored face.

"Year! Lard Nar, what year is it!?" Skoodge asks feverishly.

"48,500! Why the hell does that matt…" Lard Nar stuttered to a stop. "No…Skoodge…Do you think he…?"

The glowing pink eyes shut slowly. He slowly sinks to the floor in a mourning bow. "Zim had talked to me about it before…I thought he was joking…but…" The answer is clear.

The eerie silence bounced around the walls softly while the human's eyes dart departed confusion at their company.

"You should eat." The British accented voice floats to the cell next to his own. The voice is strangely smooth now. Only a moment ago he had been screaming hysterically but now he sounds calm, collected, almost fatherly. "You'll need your strength." Lard Nar sighs drearily and opens his pod, carefully he pours the tasteless, thick, pudding-like food into his mouth. He shudders at the texture as it slides around in his mouth before slithering down his throat on the most unpleasant manner. "Trust me." he breathes out in a defeated tone.

Keef and Dib grew more restless and irritable with every half-second. Finally, Dib broke the silence with an irritated huff. "Well? If you guys know something spit it out!"

Lard Nar chuckled bitterly and shook his head to himself in the shadows of his confinement. "Bastard really has gone out of his mind." It was then that Lard Nar took in a sharp breath and expelled his information.

"Every 500 years…" the Voration started. "The Tallest hold a big, huge entertainment gathering of sorts. Like…ahhh…what do you humans hold? The Olim Pits?"

"The Olympics." Keef corrected.

"Right. Well, they host something like that. Many races from all over the world come to watch, and the rest observe from their transmitters at home. Just another way for them to get all their bloody monies and publicity." another sad sigh, it seems to carry the weight of regret. "I guess I'll have to explain the whole thing. Humans don't interact outside Earth…

It is lucky for someone to enter this game, there can only be five 'Operators' as we call them. Their teams, 'Runlings', are made up of the persons disposable to the Operators. The Operators help guide the Runlings, and the Runlings try to survive. We, " he sighs. "Are Zim's Runlings."

Dib's jaw hung open in a shocked glare into the black of the building. "We're just here playing this game for him!? Why the hell!?" Rage trembles in the human's pale hands. He wills to make them firm around Zim's neck.

"The object of the game is to survive the maze and defeat the 'Ender' - the Ender being whatever they choose for this year- and if a team succeeds, the Operator will get the one thing he truly desires. Zim must have gone stark mad after…well, let's just say he wants to be with his kind again. It's understandable…I guess, in his situation. He was already insane. That's probably why he was distancing himself from us earlier..." he quiets to a low murmuring, mostly talking to himself.

The humans mumble to themselves as well, but still in confusion. The other Irken simply listens solemnly, he too knows what this game is. He had watched reruns of previous Games and found them amusing. Now, having to be a part of it, he regrets liking the Games at all.

"The bright side is," Lard Nar piped up in a strained optimistic tone. "Zim will try his absolute best to win. He will not stop until his whole team is destroyed. He'll take good care of us…I hope."

"How can you just accept this!?" Dib sputters out into the gloom.

"We have to, idiot!" His neighbor snaps back. "Haven't you noticed the tracker in the back of your skull!? If we try to leave this place, we DIE! It will literally blow your brains out!"

Hearing this, the inmates of the cold, gray building all tense in their place. The building seems to be pleased and creaks is response. Dib slowly reaches up to the back of his neck and rubs a tender bump on the base of his skull. Defeated, he leans back and rests on the concrete wall of his cell. The cold that inhibits the building transfers through his shirt into his skin, making him shudder uncomfortably. The pale human closes his eyes, as if to find some release. But he finds not much changed when they shut.


End file.
